The Coffee Shop
by BloodAndDiamonds
Summary: It wasn't negotiable; the job needed filling, and it needed filling quickly. He'd turn his glare to the flamboyant redhead before him and, if he didn't run screaming from the room with his tail between his legs, then he was hired. AU William/Grell


**A/N**: Another quick one-shot from me before I post either Imposition or the Eric/Alan that I'm working on; votes are at a tie at the moment! So come on guys, get voting! Also, this is AU! I don't anything here, not even the big flat in Wellington Court…no matter _how _much I wish I did. D:

* * *

><p>"Pshaw, it'll be easy."<p>

In all honesty, Ronald didn't think it would be. He wasn't exactly sure _why _his old roommate decided that he wanted to leave his home, job and family in the north and relocate to London. Apparently, the hotel he was staying in wouldn't let him stay the rest of the month if he didn't pay for the next month's lodgings. It was a problem his friend hadn't foreseen, and something that even his intimidating smile couldn't change.

"I dunno; boss is pretty strict on his employees." Ronald answered, throwing his tennis ball up in the air and catching it as it fell back down.

"He hired you, didn't he? I don't think he's so strict that a little hip swing won't convince him to hire me." At that answer, Ronald gave a snort.

"He'd pull a gun on you if you so much as moved your hips a centimetre more than needed. Or he'd stab you with that _pole _thing he has."

"Ooh I love him already~!" It was the only answer he could get from his friend, and with a sigh Ronald looked over from his armchair and took a glance at the redhead sitting on his bed.

"You're not going to last a day, Grell."

"I'll last more than a day, Ronnie-kins. I'll worm my little way into your boss' cold, cruel heart and warm him right up!" Grell's voice rose to a higher pitch, and he looked down to his chest as he spoke. Ronald gave another laugh.

"Again, he'd shoot you if you so much as shuffled within two feet of him." Ronald changed his sitting position, bringing his legs up underneath him and leaning his elbow on the back of the armchair. Grell was pulling at the fabric of his shirt, looking down it as if gauging something.

"Should I put my fake silicone breasts into a bra and wear it?"

"You still _have _those? Why don't you just get the full change?" At the question, Grell merely gave him a steady look.

"Have you _seen _how much that costs? The NHS won't give me one free, especially not with that murder charge I had a few years back. They think I'm 'mentally unstable' and therefore 'not in the right frame of mind to make the decision.' And besides, you were too young to even know I had those!" Grell fixed him with an appalled look, prompting Ronald to laugh.

"Oh please, Grell. I was fifteen, not five. I knew you had them since you left the house on a morning a man, and came back with added extras. Besides, you know how the neighbour, Sylvia, couldn't keep her mouth shut half of the time." Ronald answered quickly, returning to throwing up his tennis ball in the air. Grell scowled.

"Oh that little… if I could claw her eyes out again, I would."

"Well, if you do, don't expect me to give you another alibi. Living with a man suspected of murder and grievous bodily harm didn't look too good on my college application. Nor on my Universities. By the way, did you put those incidents in your application form?"

"Ugh, details, details. Think the boobs will work?" Grell asked, pulling a nail file from his pocket and sorting out the sharp edge of his ring finger. Ronald shook his head.

"You'd walk in and he'd march you straight back out again."

"On the contrary, he might just hire me out of fear of being accused of discriminating against me." Grell answered sharply, leaning back on Ronald's bed and lifting his feet into the air.

"I doubt it. You couldn't charge him with _anything_. His record is flawless; he's never stepped out of line _once_. And anyway, I heard his father is the equivalent to Sherlock Holmes' Mycroft. He has ties. _Connections_." Ronald added a chilling and conspicuous tone to his voice to get a reaction from Grell. The redhead merely sighed.

"Doesn't sway my mind. I need a job, and I need one _now_, Ronnie-kins." Grell sat up quickly, leaning across to the coffee table and taking a shiny red apple from a bowl. Without missing a beat he took a bite, one eyebrow raised. "Say, he sounds very straight-laced. You said he's straight, right?"

"I said I _think _he is straight." At those words, Grell swallowed quickly and narrowed his eyes.

"But he could be lying? Stuck in the closet?" Ronald spluttered at the rapid questions.

"I don't know! It's not the type of thing I go around asking my boss! Why do you even care, Grell?" Ronald asked, sitting back in his chair and throwing the tennis ball towards Grell's head. The redhead ignored it –for now – in favour of thinking a reply.

"Never said I did, Ronnie-kins." With that, Grell gave a heavy sigh. "What time is my interview?" Ronald sat up properly again in his chair at the question, leaning up to the fireplace mantle to pull off a few sheets of paper.

"Hmm, Alan says here that it's eleven o'clock tomorrow morning. He arranged the interviews in alphabetical order, so I'm assuming that he's correct. Boss will expect you there on time." Ronald took a glance to the clock. "Oh dear, it's late Grell! You may as well stay here tonight." Grell took a look up to the clock at those words, frowning as the display read eleven in the evening.

"No, Ronnie, I'll go back to my own flat. My hair doesn't agree with your tea tree shampoo." Grell stood up abruptly, his heel's hitting the laminated floor loudly and echoing through Ronald's small flat. Slipping the half-eaten apple into Grell's loose trouser pocket, Ronald followed the redhead to the door.

"Remember, _eleven am, sharp_. I don't want to have to contact your mum to tell her that her only child has been reduced to a pile of smouldering ashes!" Ronald gave the redhead a wide grin when Grell scowled.

"Mother dearest wouldn't care. She always wanted a little girl; I suspect the bitch would be glad to be rid of me." With an indignant huff and an accompanied wink, Grell took his black, red-lined coat from the stand and left without another word. Ronald gave a sigh, thinking ahead to the interview Grell would have tomorrow.

William Spears _really _wouldn't know what would hit him.

* * *

><p>William couldn't believe it.<p>

This had to be a joke. There was absolutely no other reasonable excuse for it, other than perhaps Ronald was extremely disillusioned when it came to this redhead sat before him. Indeed, he had actually been ready to send the application form back to the redhead with 'fill this out _properly_' scrawled across it in large red ink before Ronald had found it and, somehow, persuaded him to give the redhead a chance.

He couldn't really refer to the redhead as any particular gender; the gender hadn't been ticked on the application form, and the name was so unusual that he genuinely had no clue as to whether it was masculine or feminine. It had taken a quick detour and a slip of a note to Ronald to discover the gender of the redhead. Male, _definitely _male.

Actually meeting the man had sent many alarm bells ringing in his head. He'd turned up ten minutes late –_ten_- and had unceremoniously shot himself down into the chair before William. He had the air around him that made William suspect he'd never be able to arrive on time if his life depended on it. He had answered every question quickly, William could give him that, but he had done so with a flirtatious tone to his voice and a _grating_ laugh that pulled at every one of William's nerves. And Ronald had spoken so highly of this man!

It was decided; Ronald was getting clean-up duty. _For two weeks_.

William was also maybe going to forbid Alan from ever sorting out the interviews; it was too late for him to call any of the other previous interviewees, as he'd politely rejected one half of them, and had scared the other half out of their wits with a simple glare.

He wouldn't hire _anyone _if they so much as shuddered under his glare. It had been the only reason he'd hired the Eric lad, Alan's begging be damned. He'd glared at the outright _scruffiness _of the man's tie, and yet the blond had merely sat there and told him he looked like he was constipated and trying to hide it. William hadn't known if he should have stabbed him or hired him.

This was the last time he was _ever _taking his employees suggestions regarding future employees.

He hated his father for ever making him take up this business until the old man croaked; a few more years, and he could wash his hands clean of the coffee shop and retreat to a bigger, better business. Until then, however, he was left with no other potential employees apart from the redhead in front of him. William took a glance to the application form, regarding the last name and noting it for the third time that day. Sutcliff. Both the name _and _the man before him reminded him of that 'The Yorkshire Ripper' that occurred up north decades ago. With a patient sigh, William placed his pen back on the desk and looked to the redhead.

"So, Grell… a few final questions. Why did you think it necessary to place 'not a stripper' on the hobbies section of this form?" He gave a pleasant smile as he spoke –perfected through a childhood consisting of dinner parties- and locked eyes with Grell, secretly cursing in the back of his mind and wanting more than ever to wipe the smile off his face. The redhead checked his nails before answering.

"Most people tend to automatically assume I'm a stripper once they see me." There was a shrug with this answer, and William merely gave a nod. With another utterly fake and see-through smile, William stood up from his chair.

"Excuse me one moment, I just need to check that I have contacted the right referees for you." William straightened his suit jacket and moved out the room; the second his back was turned to Grell the smile disappeared completely to be replaced with a neutral face. "Alan!" The brunette had hardly come out his office before he was dragged towards the front of the shop, limbs flailing. William half-dragged him past the kitchen and a confused Eric before they came to the tills. "Take over for Ronald. You, follow me."

Ronald, who was thoroughly alarmed at seeing his boss out the _front _of the shop, followed without a word to the corridor between the kitchens and Alan's office.

"What's up, boss?"

"_What_ are you trying to make me hire, Knox?" His only answer was a splutter from Ronald and a sheepish grin. "If he doesn't do well in the next two weeks, I'm taking a pound for every minute he is late and taking it from your wages. Clear?" William didn't give Ronald a chance to reply before he went back to his own office. Grell was still lounging in the chair before William's desk, fingers quickly pressing the buttons on a bright red Verizon blackberry.

Too mainstream. This man simply _reeked _of trouble.

With a sigh, William sat down in his own chair and raised a delicate eyebrow at the redhead. Grell looked up, uncaring about the vicious gaze being settled on him. He pursed his lips, eyes locking with William's again and not even _blinking_ under the stare. William frowned.

Grell was hired.

* * *

><p>William wasn't really sure how it had happened. He was <em>not <em>a sociable person, and he hardly got on with his workers at the best of times. He was there to organise and pay them, and they were there to work. That was it. They were there for _nothing _else.

So why oh _why _was he actually indulging in this foolishness?

It had started out slowly, cautiously. Some days he would come out of his office before closing time, just to make sure that the redhead had accurately herded everyone out, and that he wouldn't be stuck staying longer than was absolutely necessary. That in turn had led to them both leaving the coffee shop at the same time once Grell figured out the days in which William was likely to leave his office early, and as the both of them had a similar route to get to their respective homes, they ended up walking together for half the journey.

It was unnecessary, unneeded, and completely pointless. He'd hated Grell from the moment the man had sauntered into his office, had swore that he'd never speak more words than necessary to him, and yet here he had been lingering behind in order to walk two miles with the man.

What on _earth _was happening to him?

Eventually William had ended up _willingly _staying later than was absolutely necessary, and the two would sit at one of the immaculate tables and _talk_. It was all completely foreign to him, and he hadn't any idea on what to do until he'd walked into the kitchen the second night it had happened. Eric had left out two steaming hot coffees sprinkled with chocolate, with a note beneath reading '_for when you stay back, boss; you'll thank me for it later, I'm sure. ;)' _

Eric had, of course, been reprimanded for assuming things with no real basis, but the blond had still found himself a few pounds better off than the others when the tips had been distributed. Alan had looked most alarmed when William had told him to give the brunette's partner the extra money; he'd been under the impression that Eric was about to be fired due to his bluntness.

And then, somehow, they had settled into a routine. Even if Grell finished his shift at five, he would be back by eight as the other workers finished up and left, and he and William would stay until nine. On one occasion, they'd stayed well into the early hours of the morning. William found a softer side to the redhead that none of the other workers saw, barring Ronald, and although that side did not show up often, William no longer seemed to mind the ridiculous flirting that came from Grell. He did not, however, let the redhead have any idea on his change of opinion; he kept his cold demeanour and empty, startling eyes, and Grell was thoroughly convinced that William still hated him.

He would not, however, admit that he _may _like it. Never.

Things had, unfortunately, become a lot more strained. The child owner of the Funtom Company had decided to open up yet _another _confectionary shop over the street from his own, and whilst it posed no problem to his own shop (after all, no one could resist the deep mahogany shaded floors, tables and couches in his shop, nor the refined feeling one got simply gazing into the window) it posed a problem to his workers.

Eric had found he liked to start trouble with the staff there; he'd frequently go over, check the kitchens, and argue with the horrendous chef who carried a _flamethrower _on his back. Alan ignored them all completely, Ronald cracked the _most inappropriate _jokes, and Grell flirted like there was no tomorrow with the black-clad personal assistant of the child owner, who was there to oversee the settling of the shop.

William Spears was not, in any way, jealous of the latter fact.

Not anymore; not after that particularly _eventful _November evening last week.

It had started out rather ordinarily; he'd left his office five minutes to closing time, had taken the coffees left by Eric, and had spent an extra hour with Grell in the shop. They'd closed up wordlessly, with Grell giving off the curious air of wanting to talk about something. William knew that the best way to get him to speak was to completely ignore the fact that Grell wanted to speak about something, and so William avoided the topic.

It worked, and eventually Grell had brought the topic up. Rather suddenly, in fact. They'd started to walk their separate ways; William walked left onto Wellington Court, towards his flat, and Grell about to go straight ahead to quickly catch a London cab. He'd been dragged into a side alley before he even had a chance to register the footsteps behind him, and Grell had him back up against the wall before he could blink.

Grell didn't actively _do _anything else, simply shifted so that his body leaned against William's – the darker haired man would _not _admit how Grell seemed to just _fit _there perfectly- and gave a heavy sigh. His hands were gripping at the collars of William's coat, nearly pulling the buttons apart as he seemed to just stand there, head on William's chest. After a few moments of a tense silence with William standing rigidly against the wall without a clue what to do, Grell spoke.

"Your heart had sped up, dear Will~"

"Out of annoyance, I assure you." William glanced down to the redhead leaning against him; Grell was looking directly up at him, his gaze piercing right through William as if he saw the lie for what it was.

"No, no, you'd pull away if you were annoyed, Will!" Grell's sly grin didn't affect William the way the redhead wanted it to; William rather got the idea that Grell might rip his face off with those teeth.

"Perhaps you are simply crushing me against the wall to a point where I cannot move." At that, Grell gave a groan of frustration and shifted slightly, his hip bones digging into the top of William's thighs even through their layers of clothing.

"Stop looking _through me_; I don't _like _it, Will. I thought you hated me, but you're acting…_different _lately."

"I assure you, you're being a bit dramatic." William couldn't understand _why _he wasn't moving, but Grell had him pinned very securely against the wall.

He ignored the voice inside his head that told him he could throw Grell off rather easily, if need be.

"Truthful and dramatic are two different things, Will~" Grell's voice pulled William from his thoughts, and with a small raise of his eyebrow William noticed that the redhead had leant up. Grell's face was mere inches from his own. Both of his eyebrows rose to greet his hairline at the revelation that, one way or another, Grell's lips were going to be on his own, whether he liked it or not. He felt a sudden influx of emotions that he'd tried to push down since the redhead's arrival, and decided he would take the initiative before Grell could obtain an upper hand.

Quickly, he gripped the sides of the redhead's arms and spun them both, pushing Grell into the wall and hearing him give an 'oof' as his back hit the wall.

Before Grell could complain of being 'manhandled', William silenced any and all words with a kiss. Grell, as if he had been _expecting _it, almost immediately deepened the kiss, his teeth carefully but forcefully nipping William's lower lip in order to force his lips apart and slip his tongue through parted lips. Grell gave a moan as hands travelled from his shoulders to his waist; the kiss was gentle but forceful, and the redhead was glad the wall was supporting him else his knees would have buckled.

They pulled apart for air, Grell giggling and resting his head on William's shoulder. Panting, Grell gave a loud laugh and glanced up to William.

"I _knew _it, Will~" Grell smirked, giving a small sigh and planting a kiss on William's jaw. He opened his mouth to speak again, most likely to tease William, but was quickly silenced with another kiss.

He didn't complain.

* * *

><p>With a small cough, William pushed the door through to the kitchens, fully expecting to find the two regular coffees on the side counter for him and Grell. In the space of a working day, Grell had <em>somehow <em>found time to sneak into his office and corner him against the bookshelf _five times_. It was slightly annoying, but all of his own work had been completed, and it wasn't like Tuesdays were busy anyway.

Raising an eyebrow, William glanced at a slip of paper peeking out from under his coffee. His green eyes scanned the paper, narrowing and then instinctively pulling his suit jacket up to cover his collar. The note read:

_Did you get collagen lip injections today, boss? Lovely swollen lips you got, and I also have to say, that shade of lipstick really suits your shirt collar!_

If Eric uttered a single word to any of the other workers, William thought as he pushed the note into his pocket, then the blond was getting a pay cut.


End file.
